Real Tests
by Scribbler
Summary: [one shot] LPY [Life PostYami] is just as fraught, though the crises are just a bit smaller than they used to be. Yuugi, Jounouchi, Anzu, Shizuka and Sugoroku ponder life, love, and hair. And smelly socks. And coffee. And Girl Talks. Among other things.


**Disclaimer:** I've checked every lining of every pocket of every coat I own, but I've yet to find the rights to YGO in any of them.

**A/N:** Blech. I liked the initial idea for this, but the more I wrote this fic, the more I got that 'blech' feeling in my gut. Inspiration is speculation between my mother and myself concerning our neighbour's new extensions. Several key ideas also owe their existence to MyAibou's fanfic, even though she didn't know it. Cheers, MyAibou! Also, the rinse Shizuka makes is from _Bubbles Unbound_ by Sarah Strohmeyer.

**Continuity: **Post-Memory Arc. Vaguely spoilery, but not much.

**Feedback: **Reviews make for a happy Scribbler. Make a Scribbler happy today?

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_**Real Tests**_

© Scribbler, June 2006.

* * *

_'But Oh! The blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearless on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.'_ -- Dinah Maria Mulock Craik, A Life for a Life, 1866.

* * *

"Can't you do anything?" Anzu's voice was plaintive, thick with the edge of recently shed tears.

Shizuka made a sucky noise between her teeth, a sound Anzu had come to associate with Very Bad Things, since it was the noise her own mother made when telling her that she couldn't go to the movies, that her favourite doll was beyond repair, or that the scrubby patch of flowers she'd lovingly planted had been dug up by next-door's dog.

"I … I'm not sure."

"Oh please, Shizuka. I can't go out in public like this! I'm a total freak show. Children will point and laugh. Old ladies will cross the street. Babies will burst into tears when they see me coming!"

"It's not _that_ bad."

Anzu buried her face in her hands. "It freakin' feels like it. Oh hell, why did I let him do this to me?"

"Well - "

"He had the nicest brown eyes, that's what it was. I'm such a sucker for nice eyes. I looked at them and he seemed so friendly, so _caring_. I thought he was going to look after me. Plus, he had a gorgeous butt – in jeans! Jeans, Shizuka! How many guys these days can wear jeans and not look even slightly camp? That should've been my first clue. I should've known it was all a big fat lie when he turned around and … and _sashayed_ away from me."

Shizuka paused in what she was going to say next. "Sashayed?"

"His hips had definite wiggle. I can see that now. I was just too blinded by his eyes before. It was all over so quick – and now … now …" Anzu screwed up her face in a prelude to more tears, which was odd, because she never cried. A lot of girls used tears as weapons, or as an easy route to sympathy, but Anzu only cried when she was genuinely _upset_. "I hate men. I hate them all. They're cruel, they're thoughtless, and they only ever leave you when they've prepped a vat of humiliation for you to wallow in."

Shizuka sighed and scratched at the nape of her neck; a nervous habit she'd developed as a child and never really grown out of. "We're getting off-topic. I don't think I can fix it. In fact, I'm not sure I can do much at all - "

Anzu's lower lip trembled.

"But I can at least try to salvage something."

"I'll love you forever if you can."

* * *

Yuugi looked up from the cupboard where he was searching for a wooden spoon when Shizuka hurried into the kitchen. Wooden spoons were a rarity in the Mutou house – for some reason Grandpa liked using them to poke cardboard boxes off the top shelf in the storeroom when he couldn't be bothered to fetch the stepladder, and he never put them back when he was done. It annoyed his grandson enormously. Yami used to find it all very amusing, that the usually docile Yuugi could get so irascible over something so small.

Shizuka's entrance pulled Yuugi from these potentially distressing memories of the departed pharaoh. She'd been staying with him and Grandpa while visiting Domino, in an attempt to avoid running into her father. Usually she stayed with Anzu, but Anzu's mother had recently moved her long-term boyfriend into their house and so space was at a premium. Yuugi had suggested to Jounouchi that his sister stay at the game shop, and then self-consciously asked his grandfather if this unsolicited donation of their home was all right. Fortunately Grandpa was fine about having another person around for a few weeks, and so far Shizuka had been a model guest.

Grandpa was behaving himself, too. He'd taken his turn on laundry detail without any panty excavations, he'd shared his room with Yuugi so Shizuka could have the bigger one, and only once walked into the bathroom while she was in there – for once a genuine mistake that resulted in blushes all around.

Now Shizuka glanced around the kitchen distractedly. Yuugi wondered what was up.

"Yuugi. Hi."

"Hello, Shizuka. Hey, do you know where Grandpa hid the last wooden spoon? I've searched the storeroom and it's not there, and I can't find it in here, either."

"Do you need it right now?" She opened a cupboard Yuugi had to stand on tiptoes to reach, then closed it again a few moments later and opened another, evidently looking for something.

"No, not until this evening. It's my turn to cook, so I thought I'd better make sure I know where he put things before I actually need to _use_ them. I already looked in there, by the way."

"Hm?" She blinked at him. "Oh. Right." The cupboard door clicked shut. "Listen, Yuugi, do you have any vinegar?"

"Excuse me?"

"And coffee. Grounds would be best, but I can manage with freeze-dried, as long as it's powerful stuff."

"Um…" Bemused, Yuugi wracked his brains to remember if they kept any vinegar in the house. "I think there might be some balsamic under the sink, but I don't like to think how old it is. We never use the stuff, only soy sauce - "

"Really?" Shizuka dived for the little cubbyhole disguised to look like an ordinary kitchen unit. "Hey, you do! And it's still got three months left before its Use By date. This is great. Thanks, Yuugi."

"You're welcome." She was acting very strangely. Yuugi was puzzled. He'd thought she was helping him in his spoon hunt, but now it seemed she was up to something else entirely. He wondered what it could be. "You're, uh, not going to drink that mixture, are you?"

"What? Oh, gosh, no!" Shizuka never entered the upper echelons of cursing. Sometimes it was difficult reconciling her with her brother, who carried curse words around in a basket and scattered them into conversations like an aristocrat dispensing largess. "I just … need it for … something." She flapped one hand ineffectually, as though pushing her excuse to keep it buoyant.

"Something?"

"Girly things. You know." She shrugged prettily.

Yuugi didn't know, but one thing he'd gleaned after years of friendship with Anzu was that 'girly things', even when explained, left him scratching his head. He tried hard to understand them, but almost always ended up making noncommittal noises and smiling idiotically while she waxed lyrical about how in touch he was with his feminine side. "Oh, right. That's okay then. For a second there I thought … well, I'm not sure _what_ I thought, but we don't have any indigestion medicine so it's a good thing you're not planning to drink them. By the way, Grandpa keeps his secret stash of extra-java coffee in the bread bin."

"The bread bin? Why there?"

"He knows I hate that pumpernickel stuff he buys, so he piles it all on top of the jar. He thinks I don't know about it."

"Why would he hide something like that?" Shizuka asked, going to the bread bin and extracting packets of dark, moist German bread, ingredients written in a language with strange letters she frowned at. "Do you like coffee, too?"

"Absolutely _not. _I hate the stuff. No, he hides it because he knows I'll make a fuss about his heart and all the caffeine he's pumping himself with."

Shizuka paused with the coffee jar in her hands. "It's really that bad for him?" she asked, eyes round. She'd grown fond of Mr. Mutou during her stay; something that made Yuugi feel all the more inclined towards her – though not romantically. He'd seen the way Jounouchi treated Honda and Otogi when they expressed an interest, and though he was _fairly_ certain he wouldn't be chased down with a monster truck, he wasn't willing to risk it.

"Well it's not doing him any favours."

"But if you know about it, why don't you stop him?"

Yuugi smiled. "He already feels like he's getting old. I can't take away one of the few pleasures he still has." The smile coiled into a smirk. "Besides which, he still hasn't noticed I've been replacing it with decaffeinated stuff. Feel free to use it all, by the way. The granules will just end up in a trash can at school if you don't."

For a second Shizuka's mouth hung open, as though she were too stunned by this display of deceitfulness to speak. Then she gave a small, dazed smile, shook her head slightly, and carted both coffee jar and vinegar bottle back up the stairs.

* * *

"What's that face for?" Anzu asked suspiciously.

Shizuka shut the bedroom door behind her. "Nobody ever told me Yuugi has a devious side."

"Yuugi? _Devious_?" Anzu blew a raspberry. Then her eyes widened. "Oh hell – Yuugi! You didn't tell him I'm here, did you? I couldn't face him, not now."

"Relax. He's looking for a new spoon, or something."

"Oh. Grandpa's lost all the wooden ones again, huh?"

Shizuka was once again struck by how well Anzu and Yuugi knew each other; how in tune their lives were, and yet how different and incompatible their natures. There was Yuugi, dressed in old jeans and rumpled tee shirt, poking about in cupboards with bits of spider web clinging to his ever-unruly hair; and here was Anzu, wearing a lime green sarong and fending off a mini meltdown by poking at it with a tube of mascara.

"Yeah. You're lucky I was covering for Mr. Mutou in the store while he went to the bathroom. But I'm confused; if you didn't want to see Yuugi, then why did you come here, of all places?"

Anzu looked a little uncomfortable. "I … I don't know. I was panicking, and during every major crisis, I've felt safest here. I guess it was just instinct made me come here first instead of going home. Which is great, if you can do something to fix this … this_ tragedy_. What're those for?"

"Huh?" Shizuka glanced down at the bottle and jar in her arms. "Oh, these are to make a rinse with. My mom swears by it. She says it covers up all her greys, and it gives her lovely body and shine, too."

"Vinegar and instant coffee?" Anzu sounded doubtful. "I don't know…"

"And aloe vera, but I have a tube of moisturiser we can use for that. I have an Alice-band you can wear, too, so you don't look like a suntan gone wrong. It's the best I can come up with at short notice, unless you had a brainwave while I was downstairs."

Anzu set her jaw. "Just tell me what to do."

"Well first of all …"

* * *

Sugoroku looked at the ceiling at the sound of feet clattering into the bathroom and slamming the door. He frowned slightly, wondering if the curry he'd made last night was having an adverse affect on his grandson – an idea that was disproved when Yuugi came through the door that linked the storefront with the rest of the house.

"Grandpa, do you know where you left the wooden spoon?"

A familiar dismay settled in Sugoroku's stomach like stodgy bread. "Wooden spoon? Oh dear. I'm afraid not." He tapped his chin with a fingertip. "Did you check the storeroom?"

"Yes."

"Was it there?"

Yuugi gave him a look that said 'If it had been, why would I be asking you now?' It was a very eloquent look, especially for a teenager. Sugoroku hadn't had a major hand in his daughter's adolescence – he'd spent a lot of it travelling the world on archaeological digs, attending seminars and giving lectures on Egyptology – but he'd been led to believe that the years between twelve and twenty were plagued by moodiness, interchangeable grunts used as answers to questions, and heartfelt sighs from someone with the emotional depth of a dented frying pan. He'd been pleasantly surprised to learn from living with his grandson that not _all _teenagers were like that. Some could even be quite pleasant, judging by his friends.

Sugoroku gave his memory a jiggle. Though his body was succumbing to the pitfalls of age, his mind was still sharp as a shark's tooth. Even so, he seemed to run across a mental block when it came to wooden spoons. He wasn't even sure why – it wasn't as though the blasted things were special in any way. There was no such thing as a Millennium Spoon, nobody had ever trapped his soul in one, and if a mugger jumped him brandishing a wooden spoon the only thing he'd hurt would be his back from laughing. Still, for the life of him he could never remember where he put them, and nursed a secret concern that someday he'd open a closet and be buried under an avalanche of the confounded things.

"I've already checked the kitchen, too," Yuugi said. "And the downstairs restroom, and the lounge, and the genkan. Your boots need new insoles, but there weren't any wooden spoons anywhere."

"Oh dear," Sugoroku repeated, a trifle put out. This constant forgetfulness made him feel like a doddery old fool – something anyone who'd seen him duel could attest he _wasn't_.

The sound of something heavy hitting the bathroom floor snapped him from his thoughts.

"What on Earth are those two doing up there?" he wondered aloud.

"Two?" Yuugi was nonplussed.

"Shizuka and Anzu."

"Anzu's here?"

"She arrived earlier. Didn't she call in to say hello?" At once Sugoroku regretted saying anything. He was perfectly aware of Yuugi's crush on his one-time best and only friend. Things Anzu did appeared larger to Yuugi, and more full of meaning and hidden significance than the average teenager could summon on command. "Shizuka had already bundled her up the stairs by the time I got onto the store floor. She seemed quite forceful, and they both seemed preoccupied by something. I'm sure neither of them meant anything by it."

"Shizuka didn't mention anything when I just talked to her…" Yuugi murmured, eyes flicking to the ceiling, the floor, the display cases of new Duel Monsters cards, and finally settling on the battered toes of his slippers. He wiggled his feet, then shoved his hands in his pockets and said with forced casualness, "You're probably right, Grandpa. They probably didn't mean anything by it. I'll just go … look for the spoon again …" This lacklustre excuse made, he retreated back into the house.

Sugoroku played with the idea of following him, but then thought better of it. Yuugi was a big boy now, he reasoned, and big boys got their hearts broken at least once in their lives – maybe more. In his short years Yuugi had already been host to a three thousand year old spirit, lost and regained his soul, defeated countless megalomaniacs, _and _helped save the world. Next to all that, he could withstand a little heartache without shattering. Besides which, for all Yuugi adored her, and for all she'd been through for the sake of their friendship, Anzu was not the most reliable person in the world. She tried hard, but on rare occasions the selfish child she'd been when they first met reared her ugly head.

The sound of female whimpering filtered through the ceiling.

_Very rare occasions_, Sugoroku thought, and settled back to organising the boxes of Chinese Checkers he'd poked off the top shelf in the storeroom.

* * *

Shizuka had found a pump dispenser Yuugi used to water the pot plants spread around the house. She'd emptied out the water and filled it with her mother's concoction, all the while reassuring Anzu that she did this all the time at home.

"Especially when Mom can't find her glasses. I measure out everything so much I don't even need a jug anymore. I can tell how much I need just by looking."

Anzu was kneeling with her head over the bath, the shower head gripped in one hand and a towel around her shoulders to protect her bra straps from getting wet. Her halter-top, which Shizuka privately thought a revolting shade of yellow, hung off the doorknob. The scent of Shizuka's mandarin shampoo hung in the rapidly thickening air. Since it was already a hot day, the heavy atmosphere had made both girls break out into a sheen of sweat.

"So," Shizuka said, as much to lighten the mood as out of genuine curiosity, "how come you went there anyway?"

"You know I'm planning to go to America, right?"

She nodded, even though Anzu couldn't see it. "Sure. Everyone knows about that." Jounouchi had told her that, had the operation to restore her eyesight not been so urgent, he reckoned Yuugi might well have donated his Duellist Kingdom prize money to Anzu's cause. He was just that kind of guy.

"Well," Anzu went on, "that costs a lot of money. And even though I've been working every hour I can (and some I can't, come to that), it's still really pricey. So I've been, y'know, cutting corners on regular stuff; trying to save money. Buying clothes from market traders and discount outlets instead of high street stores, getting schoolbooks second hand, repairing and darning instead of buying new – that sort of thing."

"And going to the community college instead of a hair salon," Shizuka finished.

"Yeah. Usually it's not so bad. I mean, I like my own style of clothes, but I'm not exactly adventurous when it comes to my hair." Anzu reached up and fumbled around blindly for the switch to shut off the water to the shower. Shizuka leaned across to do it for her. "Thanks. The students aren't so bad, either. Most of the time they're so nervous they don't let me out of the chair unless I'm totally satisfied with what they've done. But today …"

"Today you got Brown-Eyed Guy."

"Exactly."

* * *

"Yo, Grandpa." Jounouchi flipped a salute as he entered the Kame Game Store. "My sister around?"

Grandpa Mutou dumped a pile of yellow and green boxes on the countertop. "You help me stack these little beauties and I might tell you."

"Whoa, hold on there, Gramps. I'm on a schedule. I ain't got time to help out today."

Grandpa raised an eyebrow. "And what's so important that you'd leave a poor, feeble old timer like me to climb all the way up that rickety stepladder alone? My knees could go at any time, you know, and I'd come crashing down like a plane shot out of the sky. Alone."

"As long as it was a Boeing 747," Jounouchi muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Er, nothing. Come off it, Gramps, we all know you're fit as a fiddle."

"Humph."

"And FYI, I'm taking Shizuka out to buy a dress. It's the one she'd gonna wear to my graduation, so I'm gonna make sure she's the most stunning girl in the room; to match me, the most handsome guy." He preened a little.

"As long as you define 'handsome' as …" Grandpa muttered something unrepeatable.

"Hey! I heard that!"

"FYI," he said mockingly, "you were supposed to."

"Humph." Jounouchi folded his arms. "So, is she around? I'm a bit early, but I figured she's always ready way before me anyway. I might get to be somewhere not-late for once."

"Ah, well, if you're early, then you wouldn't mind stacking these boxes for me - "

"Uh, I'll just go and see for myself, 'kay?" Grinning ridiculously, Jounouchi slipped past the old man and through the door into the house proper.

"The young today have no respect," Grandpa called after him, but he was smiling as he said it.

After casting aside his shoes, Jounouchi wandered through to the kitchen, where he found Yuugi nursing a cup of something hot. He looked up as Jounouchi walked in, a warm smile spreading across his face. He and Grandpa each had the kind of smile that instantly put people at ease, but at a push Jounouchi had to admit that Yuugi's was the more honest. There was an openness about the little guy that swept away bad feeling like an inconsiderate cleaning lady swept dust under a rug.

Yuugi looked like he'd spent the day cleaning. He was wearing his NHTJ – Nuclear Holocaust Tee and Jeans – an ensemble Anzu had nicknamed because they looked like they'd survived an apocalypse or two. A lot of life had happened to those jeans. A lot of dinners had happened to that shirt. They were the embodiment of tatty, and Yuugi only wore them when he was planning to spend the day sorting out the storeroom. They'd languished in the back of his wardrobe while Yami was around, since the King of Games refused to wear anything so revolting.

"Oh, hey Jounouchi. I didn't expect to see you today."

"I swapped shifts at work," Jounouchi replied, referring to the builders' merchant he worked at outside school hours, "so I could get at the shopping mall while everything's still open for once."

"You're going shopping?" Yuugi frowned. "But you hate shopping."

"Yeah, but only a lot. I'm taking Shizuka to buy a dress to wear to our graduation. She should be the prettiest girl in the room, since Anzu's gonna be trussed up in a shapeless robe like you and me."

Promptly, Yuugi's face dimmed. A shadow ghosted over his features, making him look almost Yami-like, and forcing Jounouchi to look at him twice.

"You okay, dude?"

"I'm fine. Shizuka and Anzu are just upstairs."

"Anzu's here? Man, I hope she isn't planning on coming out with us. I wanted to help Shizuka pick out her dress by myself."

Yuugi sipped his drink. "Anzu's okay."

"I know she's okay, man, but she's so _bossy_." Jounouchi rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair at the table. "Mind if I cop a squat? If those two are doing girly things, they could take ages. Shizuka knows I'm due to arrive in the next half hour, so she'll be down to meet me."

"Sure, take a seat. You want some hot chocolate?" Of course Yuugi wasn't drinking tea or coffee. It was one of his quirks – he could take on soul-stealing rocks, but he couldn't handle caffeine. "We don't have any marshmallows, but we do have cocoa sprinkles to go on top."

"Nah, I'm good. I just hope those two aren't doing the girl talk thing."

"The girl talk thing?"

"You know, where they talk about make-up and guys; to wit, us."

"We aren't the only guys they know," Yuugi pointed out, but he sounded uncertain.

"Which makes it worse, because it might mean they're talking about Honda and Otogi." Jounouchi's fist tightened imperceptibly. He tolerated Otogi to the cusp of liking him, and he and Honda had been best buds forever, but the thought of either one pawing at his baby sister made him want to return to his days of mashing heads.

Yuugi glanced into the hall at the stairs and took another sip from his mug. "Hm," was all he said.

* * *

"Well," said Shizuka, standing back, "that's the best I can do."

The pump dispenser dangled slackly from her fingers, its contents severely diminished. Her fingers were stained light brown, and air that had previously smelled like an orange grove was now redolent of a Starbucks mixed with a fish market. There was also a faint smell of burning that came from the ancient hairdryer she'd found. The mutual shaggy state of Sugoroku and Yuugi declared that they'd never used hairdryers in their lives, so the two girls could only speculate that it had belonged to Yuugi's mother when she still lived there – possibly when she was a teenager herself.

"And … I'm supposed to leave this stuff in?" Anzu yearned to touch her hair, but she was under strict instructions not to for at least half an hour. Her scalp felt sticky, and she wanted nothing more than to shove her head under the showerhead again, but she refrained.

"You can brush it some more, if you like," Shizuka suggested, her tone gentle and encouraging. "The rinse means you won't fluff up like an angry cat no matter how often you brush, but you won't look lank or greasy, either. Actually, it looks much better than I thought it would. Some places are a little more," she gestured with both hands, unable to find an appropriate word, "than usual, maybe, but better than before…" She trailed off, embarrassed at revealing her own vote of no confidence in the procedure she'd just made Anzu undergo.

Anzu stared in the mirror above the washbasin. She could see both herself and Shizuka reflected in it, the other girl's face hopeful yet apprehensive. Since all moisturiser had been donated to the miracle potion, there had been none for Anzu to put on after she washed off all her own, and now her skin felt tight and stretched. Her forehead in particular felt exposed, but that wasn't Shizuka's fault – it hadn't seen daylight for a decade – and for someone who had never even entertained the thought of becoming a hairdresser, Shizuka _had_ done a good job fixing the damage. She'd even loaned some eye-shadow and mascara, though the muted colours were not some Anzu would necessarily have picked out herself.

She and Shizuka were so far apart in tastes – Shizuka preferring muted shades and little-girl motifs, whereas Anzu liked bolder designs and individualism to the max. For two girls who'd spent so much time together, and been through so many shared experiences, they really had very little in common. Anzu was arty and wanted to be a dancer in a faraway country. Shizuka had decided practically from the moment she got her sight back that she wanted to be a doctor, and was methodical in her schoolwork to facilitate this goal. Anzu was devoted to her friends, and to the ideal of friendship, but had once been a selfish little girl in search of popularity at any cost. Shizuka had been a social outcast virtually since birth, but had never wavered in staunch support of her wayward brother – not even when they were separated and she thought she might never get to see him again. Anzu was bossy, and loved organising and being in charge. Shizuka preferred taking a backseat, allowing others to lead and adding her own input at appropriate moments. Really, it was a miracle they were friends at all.

Shizuka was beginning to look apprehensive at Anzu's continued silence.

Anzu drew herself up, gathering her scattered emotions and shoving them into the mental equivalent of a carrier bag. "Thank you," she breathed, and meant it.

Shizuka beamed. "And it only took, what, two hours? Pretty good for a 'miracle'." She looked theatrically at her watch, and then did a double take, eyes bulging. Suddenly she dashed for the door. "Oh no – oh _no_! I told Jounouchi to call for me forty minutes ago! We're supposed to be going shopping today. He booked the day off work and everything!"

Anzu followed her back into Yuugi's room. "Here, let me help." She stuffed the purse and cell phone laid out on the bed into a tiny Hello Kitty backpack while Shizuka hastily ran a brush through her long chestnut hair. "Knowing Jounouchi, he's probably not even here yet."

However, Jounouchi was indeed already there. They heard him talking as they descended the stairs, and walked into the kitchen to find both he and Yuugi at the table. Three empty mugs sat between them, while Grandpa stood opposite, eyeing the chocolate crusts on each rim.

"So you left me to do all that work by myself, while you two guzzled hot chocolate and devastated the packets of marshmallows – marshmallows _I _bought." Anyone not used to him might have taken his tone for accusatory, but Anzu recognised the hint of teasing that suffused it. The fact that he was trying hard not to smile was also an indicator. Grandpa hated getting mad at people almost as much as he hated people threatening his beloved store.

"Sorry, Gramps, but duty called." Jounouchi patted his belly. "Can't shop on an empty stomach. And I only had one mug, unlike some people." He held up a hand as if to shield a whisper, and crooked his other finger to point at Yuugi.

"Hey! I've been working hard," Yuugi protested. "I deserved a break."

"And I didn't?" Grandpa demanded.

Jounouchi grinned, but his gaze shifted to over the old man's shoulder. "Shizuka! I never thought the day would come where I'm waiting around for _you_, sis."

"At least, not so soon," Shizuka said softly.

Anzu found herself nodding, also remembering how Jounouchi, who had spent the majority of his teenage years bullying and whaling on kids smaller than himself, had sat in the waiting room at Domino General for the ten hours doctors took to complete Shizuka's surgery. Both she and Yuugi had tried to convince him to go home and get some sleep, or at least visit the cafeteria, but he'd refused to move so much as an inch until the all clear came through. Afterwards he'd been nearly dead on his feet, and collapsed in the spare room at Honda's house rather than go home and face his father.

Yuugi nodded a greeting to Shizuka, but half stood up when he spotted Anzu. He looked scruffy and uncombed, but somehow it just made him look even more endearing than usual. Not that she would've said that to his face, of course; since Yami left, Yuugi had become pretty sensitive about appearing younger than he was, and so mainstay words like 'adorable' and 'cute' had fallen into disrepair around him. Still, Anzu reflected, Yuugi was good at domestic, and he _did_ look far more adorable in his NHTJ ensemble than he ever did in leather or vinyl. He still wore the studs and collars, but he seemed far more natural without them, like he wasn't pretending to be what he thought they wanted him to be.

"Anzu?"

"Yuugi, hi. Uh, sorry about not saying that before. Shizuka and I just had a … a little girl talk we needed to get out of the way first."

Shizuka caught her eye. "What? Oh, yeah. Girl talk. About, y'know," she spiralled a hand at the wrist, "girly things. Strictly no boys allowed."

"Definitely no boys allowed."

A strange look passed between Jounouchi and Yuugi.

Grandpa Mutou turned around. "Why … Anzu. Your hair." It was not said like he was pointing out she had some, nor in the manner of someone who actually meant, "You look wonderful, darling." In fact, it sounded more like what Grandpa _actually_ wanted to say was "I'm trying to think of a suitable response that won't make you want to hit me with a ladle, because I've grown very tired of that from women, and I'm really not very good at flattering remarks, so let's just pretend I said something clever and move on quickly, shall we?"

Instantly, anxiety flooded Anzu's stomach. She resisted the urge to reach up and tug at the phantom fringe Brown-Eyed Guy had hacked off without so much as a by-your-leave. "I … felt like a change," she said lamely. She didn't mention the cherry-red hair dye, or the uneven, clumpy streaks it had left. Not all of it had been covered up, so she and Shizuka had instead just muted the red to a more bearable shade. Anzu still felt like a half-sucked strawberry lollipop, though.

Fortunately, her hair grew quite fast, and Shizuka had promised to teach her how to make the coffee and vinegar rinse on her own, so Anzu could keep covering up the damage for as long as she needed to after Shizuka went back to Tokyo. Too much colourant could devastate healthy hair, making it thin and brittle and prematurely aging the follicles. So much had been hacked off that morning, Anzu had been overwhelmed by how much she hated it that she hadn't been thinking clearly after leaving the community college. Afterwards she'd admitted that she was loath to just dye what was left back to its normal brown. Mazaki hair was genetically predisposed to thin with age, and neither men nor women escaped this particular defect. Anzu's grandmother had possessed hair like an auburn velvet drape when she was sixteen – thick and luxuriant – and since it was now so thin you could see her scalp through it, providence dictated Anzu's would one day end up the same. Since she'd rather that be later rather than sooner, Shizuka's remedy had seemed like an incredible stroke of luck.

Now, however, Anzu was certain Yuugi, Jounouchi and Grandpa Mutou could see right through the damage control to the horrifying _mess_ she was underneath.

Yuugi was the first to speak. "You look … nice," he said timidly, but he said so many timid things around her recently that even her neurosis couldn't attribute it _totally_ to her hair disaster.

She gave no credence to what Jounouchi and Honda said about Yuugi having a crush on her. Rather, she put his diffidence down to her 'dates' and notorious crush on Yami – sorry, Atemu. Since they _had_ shared a body, Yuugi probably thought the notable absence of Pharaoh should affect their friendship in some way, like she wouldn't want Yuugi Mutou as a friend if she couldn't have Pharaoh Atemu as something more. This was in spite of all they'd been through in the Memory World – which, okay, she'd undermined a bit by crying and trying to run after Atemu when he left for the afterlife – but for all Yuugi had changed over the past few years, he still held some seed of doubt in his own worth. He was a born martyr.

"I like it," Jounouchi proclaimed, leaning back in his chair. "It's funky."

"_Funky_? Who uses words like that outside the 70s?" Anzu pulled a face, but felt better. Jounouchi wasn't one to pull his punches. If she looked as bad as she felt she did, he'd have been the first to try a quick snipe.

"You should've done something like this ages ago."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Uh, nothing. Hey, sis, did you do this?"

Shizuka shook her head, and then caught Anzu's eye again. "Well, sort of. It's … a long story."

"And one you really don't need to hear." Anzu smiled sweetly, but in that way a lot of women who live around numerous guys have perfected. It stated, "If you know what's good for you, whatever I just said, you'll agree with it and say no more on the topic, for fear of needing surgery to get your nuts out of your neck when I kick them there."

Jounouchi frowned a little, but shrugged. He was never really one for subtlety. "If you say so. C'mon, Shizuka. Time's a-wastin'."

"Oh, but wouldn't Anzu, Yuugi or Mr. Mutou like to come too?" Shizuka gestured at them, inviting them along. She was so naturally polite that neither of them was sure whether or not the invitation was genuine.

"No, I'm good," said Yuugi.

"Me too," said Anzu. "You two deserve some quality time. You've barely had two minutes together since you got off the train, Shizuka, and I know Jounouchi must be _dying_ to start carrying plastic bags for his dear baby sister."

Jounouchi looked like wanted to flip her the bird, but refrained because Shizuka wouldn't approve, and Anzu would only smack him if he did _anyway_.

Grandpa held up his hands. "Unlike you young people, I have work to do. The store won't run itself, you know."

"So who's manning it now?" Jounouchi sniped slyly. "Or did you stick the 'Out to Lunch' sign in the window again? According to that thing you have, what, five lunches a day?"

"Cheeky beggar!"

He ducked a half-hearted swipe, laughing, and grabbed Shizuka's wrist. She waved with her free hand as she was dragged out into the genkan.

"Bye, Shizuka. Bye, Jounouchi," Yuugi called.

"You kids have fun!"

"Will do, Anzu. And I'll give you that thing we talked about when I get back, okay?"

"What thing?" asked Yuugi when they'd gone and Grandpa had retreated back out onto the storefront to read his newspaper.

Since Yuugi rarely read newspapers, they were often kept out front where Sugoroku could read them at his leisure. Things were usually quiet when the illustrious Yuugi Mutou, King of Games wasn't behind the counter. Regulars felt most comfortable in that kind of atmosphere, and appreciated that Sugoroku wasn't eyeballing them as they perused shelves and display cases. The newspaper was therefore a means to an end – when he had it with him it encouraged people to buy more, or at least to indulge in the more expensive stock as a sort of 'thank you' for not being like the bigger, more aggressive gaming stores. The Kame Store was remarkably lucky to have picked up such a reliable and honest crowd for its clientele.

On the other hand, fans and Duel Monsters aficionados were always calling in when Yuugi was there, clogging the floor like arteries after a fry-up, but rarely buying anything more than a booster pack. Most were pleasant and wanted only an autograph, or maybe a photo with him, but some could get downright obnoxious in their demands to take his title. Yuugi had told Anzu that he was seriously considering making some public announcement about his retirement from competitive Duel Monsters. His heart hadn't been in the game since Egypt, but any decision was still unofficial, and he was dragging his feet about making any permanent changes. She thought he was maybe a little afraid Seto Kaiba might start another tournament as a last ditch attempt to take the crown if he said anything, and they all knew how _those_ things were a magnet for trouble.

Anzu shrugged. "Girl stuff."

"Oh." Yuugi glanced at the dirty mugs. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Anzu mulled it over and decided that, on balance, her day had been stressful enough to merit the extra calories. "I'd love some."

Yuugi beamed. "I'll just heat up the milk."

"You want any help?"

"No, I can manage."

"I didn't mean to imply you couldn't."

Yuugi just shrugged and smiled.

Anzu slid into the chair Jounouchi had left out. The seat was still warm. While Yuugi's back was turned she patted her hair and checked her palm for brown stains. She didn't smell too bad, thanks to some of that amazing spray Shizuka had bought to stop Jounouchi's shoes from smelling. He never had more than one pair in rotation at once, and wore those so constantly that the sweat barely had time to dry before he was shoving his feet back in again. He also nursed a few packrat tendencies that an armchair psychiatrist could easily trace back to his father's habit of tossing out things when he took a drunken dislike to them. Clothes, books, homework papers, beloved childhood toys – everything hit the trash when Mr. Jounouchi 'took against' them. He'd even dumped his own son in the garbage can once or twice. Nothing was sacred while Jounouchi was growing up, so it was understandable that he valued everything he _did_ manage to hang onto for more than five seconds – including shoes.

That didn't make him any less stinky, though. A battered pair of sneakers could clear a room when Jounouchi arrived at a friend's house. They'd all told him he reeked, Anzu even making him scrub his feet when he came over to hers, but Shizuka had gone one step further and purchased a fancy 'odour eater' aerosol when she did the grocery shopping for the Mutou household. While not going so far as wanting to _kiss_ Jounouchi's feet, Anzu was suddenly very grateful to them. Without that spray, she'd smell worse than the dredgers floating down Domino's canal.

"I really do like your hair," Yuugi said suddenly, turning around and leaning against the counter. He made no move to come any closer, which bothered Anzu in a way she couldn't explain. "I'm just … not so great with … y'know … words."

"Doofus," Anzu muttered warmly. "It doesn't look dumb? I was worried it looked dumb."

"No, it looks … pretty. Like a sunset." His eyes lowered. "Sorry, that sounds like a bad chat-up line, doesn't it?"

"No. Well, yes, kind of. But in a good way." Anzu took a breath. "Than you for not making fun."

"Why would I make fun?" Yuugi asked, turning back and spooning instant hot chocolate mix into the bubbling saucepan. "I think it looks nice."

"Yeah, but you'd say that even if I looked like an explosion in a paint factory."

Yuugi's shoulders hunched up, but he forced them back down again, as though trying to also shrug off some nameless emotion. He stirred the milk with rhythmic, even movements, not looking up or back at her, but concentrating fully on the task at hand. This concentration continued when he poured the hot chocolate into two mugs. The levels were almost unnaturally equal.

"You like marshmallows, right?" he asked, bringing a half-full packet over to the table.

"Ooh, yes please. But isn't that your third mug?"

"I'm a growing boy."

"I wish I could inhale that much sugar and still stay that slim. I envy your metabolism." She sniffed the heavenly scent. "Ooh. Envy, envy, envy."

Yuugi grinned. It was a natural curvature of his lips, and looking at it felt like a comfort blanket for the soul. Anzu blew off curls of steam and sipped the hot, sweet liquid that was still really too hot to drink. She couldn't wait, though, and basked in the feeling of contentment that sitting here in this kitchen, in this house, after such a hellish morning, could bring.

They sat in silence for a while, comfortable not to be talking or doing much of anything except savouring that moment. She wasn't Yuugi's best friend anymore – that role was filled more than capably by Jounouchi – but she was still _a_ friend, and it was only a short time ago (relatively speaking) she'd realised just how _valuable _that was. You didn't meet people like him very often. Part of her felt a little sorry for those who would never experience the comfortable glow of true, honest friendship - friendship where you could sit doing nothing or throw down your soul in the same heartbeat, and with the same amount of forethought and regret.

"Oh," Anzu said suddenly, setting down her mug, "I almost forgot." She scooped her backpack up off the floor and unzipped it, grubbing around inside while Yuugi looked on in bemusement. "Here," she said at last. "I found it in the sink." She presented him with a somewhat splintered wooden spoon.

Yuugi stared at it for a long moment. Then he reached out to take it from her outstretched hand. "Aren't you going to say something about how peculiar it is to find wooden spoons in the upstairs bathroom?"

"Why should I? You get used to stuff like that after a while. It gets kind of … well, reassuring, really. A little bit of quirky oddness you can count on in a great big sea of 'Oh-hell-we're-going-to-die-screaming-and-with-much-pain' kind." She shrugged and went back to her drink like that statement _wasn't _something that would make Jounouchi's armchair psychiatrist boggle.

Yuugi blinked. "Maybe we should be worried that stuff like that is damaging us. Grandpa keeps telling me that we're not even adults yet." He said this like he was culling the sentence from a much longer, much more complicated conversation.

Anzu raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. We can survive rampaging psychos and evil magical doodads, but walkabout cutlery is going to drive us insane."

Yuugi just shrugged, a tiny shift of his shoulders that wouldn't have unbalanced a perching, whispering parrot.

Anzu gazed thoughtfully into space for a long moment. "The Millennium Spoon?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes, but followed this up with a shake of her head. "Whoever heard of a stupid idea like that? Hey, stop hogging all the marshmallows!"

And peace reigned in the Mutou household.

Well, as much as it ever did, anyway.

* * *

**FINIS.**

* * *

_The real test of friendship is: can you literally do nothing with the other person? Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?' -- _Eugene Kennedy

* * *


End file.
